


Spoken For

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spanking, Unwanted Sexual Advances, Voyeurism, Winter Palace sex, ill advised sexual contracts, non consensual voyeurism, porn with feelings...ish?, sticking it to the Orlesians in a not very metaphorical way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10214048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: In which, at the Winter Palace, Cullen is made rather uncomfortable by his Orlesian admirers. Then Samson makes a deal, and fun is had by all.





	1. Desire

Orlesians.

In less polite company he might have joked that they were a plague upon Thedas with their Game and masks and political intrigue. Cullen had no real interest in any of that. Having to navigate complicated manners and customs in order to not seem barbaric felt like an utter waste of time, and when it was getting in the way of what they were actually there to do it felt interminably worse. Minutes stretched to hours, felt like days, and the never ending parade of people in almost ridiculous dress that asked the same questions over and over made his head spin and ache. It was unrelenting, as were the constant waves of perfume and cologne that made the headaches worse. Candlelight glinted off their masks like explosions in his vision, and he felt a bit sick.

It was all a little too close, really. For all that he could manage with a group of soldiers and have no problems didn’t really mean anything like this. Shouting out orders to be followed was a different thing altogether to casual and ‘light’ conversation. Small talk had never been his forte, it made him feel awkward, and being leered at nearly constantly only served to put him more on edge.

_ Are you married? _

_ Would you care to dance? _

_ Can I get you a drink? _

It never stopped. 

Every so often, however, there was something that came up that wasn’t the same three or four questions. Some wanted to know about the battles they’d faced so far, some wanted to know about the situation in Thereinfall Redoubt, and some...some wanted to know of Kirkwall. That had been like a punch in the chest amid everything else. It stole his breath until he could only manage a pinched yet polite “perhaps another time” to knock them back. The questions made him more anxious for the Inquisitor’s signal. He’d been gone since they’d been introduced to Celene, and the lack of appearance was starting to make him nervous. Everything about all this made him nervous.

“Commander?” a voice asked him, and Cullen blinked twice to see another gaggle of nobles standing in front of him. Yet again, someone was talking to him. Another series of the same questions, and again he wished he had the constitution for the spiced punch they were serving. But he needed to keep a clear head tonight, that was for certain.

“Sorry, yes,” Cullen apologized as he searched the semicircle of masked faces that surrounded him. 

“So are you married, Commander?”

_ Ugh. _

“Only to my work.”

“So...single, then?” another voice asked. A man. A man behind a mask and wearing a very ostentatious doublet in teal and yellow.

That gave Cullen pause. He wasn’t married, no, but he wasn’t exactly single either. It was a complicated situation. There weren’t many that understood it, or wanted to, and Cullen was rarely one to discuss it with anyone. Trevelyan had been skeptical at first, considering the past, but had given his blessing. Not that Cullen necessarily  _ needed _ his blessing, since it wasn’t as if the man owned him, but still. It was nice to have someone’s agreement instead of suspicious looks.

“Not as such, no,” he answered. 

“A lover! How  _ romantic _ , Commander. Please tell me there’s been a white horse and a dramatic reunion after a harrowing battle!” There was a longing in the man’s voice. It made him elongate the words, made it sound like there was almost a nasally whine to it. Cullen had never been that well versed in picking up anyone’s  _ interest _ , but there was no denying the fact that the statement sounded like a Maker damned fantasy. “Are they here with you? Would they be opposed if we shared a dance, perhaps?”

Before he could stop himself, Cullen let out a choked kind of sound. How much more of this was he going to have to endure? How much longer was he going to have to sit through this...embarrassment? This annoyance. Where in the Maker’s name was the Inquisitor and why weren’t they taking over the Palace yet? Anything to save him from this nightmare. He wasn’t Leliana or Josephine, and he hated the idea of having to wade through this mire of forced politeness while dodging obnoxious questions and unsubtle(even for him) flirting. Why couldn’t he have just stayed with the soldiers and let those that were  _ good _ at this take point? 

Then...a light. Well, not literally. A figurative light at the end of this tunnel sparked at the edge of Cullen’s vision and he could feel himself tense. A matching red jacket to the one he wore. Dark hair tied at the nape of the neck. A familiar profile that Cullen knew as well as his own.  _ Samson _ . Maker help him, but finally a friendly face...and an actual face at that. No mask, no nothing hiding intentions. Perhaps that was what put Cullen off the most. He couldn’t put an intention to any of the voices that spoke to him, and that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. Finally, though, there was someone he knew and someone he knew that thought this pageantry was just as stupid and pointless as Cullen did. 

_ Look over. Please look over. Help me. _

For a long moment Cullen didn’t hear anyone or anything else. His focus was honed in on the man across the hall as he tried to will him to look over. Whatever else these nobles were trying to talk to him about was unimportant. He just...wanted Samson to look over and see him. They knew each other well enough, and Cullen trusted him to know what to do. Something.  _ Anything _ . Anything that might grant him some reprieve from all of this.

For a brief second, Cullen felt it. Samson’s eyes cut left, caught Cullen’s, and there felt like an almost spark of electricity between them. Of course he wasn’t so besotted with the man to say that they could read each other’s minds, but for just a second it felt that way. It lasted a breath, maybe less, but he saw Samson smile that wicked little smile that made the edges of his thin lips turn upward. He’d seen Cullen, saw the spot he was in and could probably read the look on his face with no issue, but that smile made him wonder. Maker, the man wouldn’t just  _ leave _ him like this because it was amusing, would he? No, surely not. Right?

Then he was gone- out of Cullen’s sight, and he felt more alone than he had before. The others had stopped talking, were quiet now that he’d snapped out of that focus. The man who had been speaking to him before was at Cullen’s side, and though he couldn’t  _ see _ his face, Cullen could feel him leering. He’d been looking too, hadn’t he? He could feel his face flush, could feel how heat filled his cheeks and down his neck. Under the jacket, the one that had been cut just a little too slim, his chest would be as pink as his face.

“Is that him, Commander?” that voice practically purred, “your lover? That man you can’t keep your eyes off of?”

“I-” he began, then jumped just a bit. Perhaps that question had been a diversion because now there was, without question, a hand on his arse. It wasn’t even subtle. Gloved though it was, and the fact that the pants Cullen wore were thick to combat the Orlesian weather, he could feel a very pointed warmth  _ cupping _ his rear end. Then it squeezed. “I-I’m sorry, did you just grab my…” he started out incredulous, but lost steam when it came to the word. “My...my  _ bottom _ ?” It came out hissed and quiet, and there was another squeeze in response.

“Forgive me, Commander, I am a weak man.”

Cullen shifted, tried to move away, but there were so many people around that he couldn’t rightly jump to the side without someone noticing. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain why he was hopping around like he’d seen a rat. So that hand stayed put, caressed across both cheeks before grabbing again. It made the blush on his face darken, and Cullen let out a low sound that might have been a growl in warning.

“Take your hand off me, or I’ll remove it at the wrist,” he sneered just quietly enough for the man at his left to hear.

“Such threats,” was the response, “handsome  _ and _ spirited. No wonder you’ve found such a following here.”

“Drink,  _ Commander _ ?” interrupted where Cullen was about to physically turn and perhaps push that hand away from him. It was a familiar voice, dark and rich with a Marcher’s accent, and Cullen let out a sigh of relief as Samson pushed his way through the throng of people. He was holding two glasses and pointedly stepped in the way of the others as he got into Cullen’s space and held it out. That much close proximity should have been claustrophobic, but in that moment it was like a wall keeping a pack of dogs at bay.

He sucked in a breath, “ _ Maker, _ yes,” he said, and stepped forward so he could escape that hand on him and take the offered glass of whatever it was Samson had shown up with. As if on cue, too, Samson pulled the glass back so he had to take another step. It put them closer together and Cullen further away from the rest. In the middle of that little circle, they were a bit of an island of something else. Something more comfortable. 

As he stepped closer and wrapped his fingers around the glass, Samson just smirked. He had a plan. What it was, Cullen had no idea, but he was planning something. How Cullen wished he knew what it was so that he could go along with it, whether he needed some polite reason to leave with the man, but...if anything, Samson was crafty. He was smarter than most gave him credit for, quicker than any would think, and Cullen trusted him. He’d trusted him for a long time, and was willing to put himself in Samson’s hands to get him  _ out of this. _

Except there were no words. He’d thought there might be. He’d thought that Samson would come up, offer him a drink, and give some clever reason why he needed to step away.  There wasn’t one, though. Instead, there were lips on Cullen’s as Samson kissed him like there wasn’t another soul in the room. Since he had one hand free, one rested on Cullen’s hip as he pulled him closer. It was a lover’s kiss. It wasn’t some awkward play. Anyone who saw them would know what they were to each other, and though his attention was focused solely on the man kissing him Cullen knew that there would be gasps and tittering all around them when they came back up for air. It just meant he was all the more reticent to  _ stop _ because if he stopped kissing Samson it meant he had to go back to reality. This was better by a long shot.

But they needed to breathe, and Cullen couldn’t very well keep his eye out for the Inquisitor if he was kissing someone. When Samson pulled away he felt lightheaded and out of breath. Thoroughly kissed. He’d felt it down to his toes and back up. That blush was still on his face, but now it was for a wholly different reason. He could taste that spiced wine from Samson’s lips on his own, and he could smell that unperfumed and masculine scent that had nothing to do with cologne or scented herbs burning in the fireplaces. It was a nice distraction from everything else, and for just a moment he was still lost in it.

“Commander,” Samson said by way of dismissal, and that smirk was back. He drained the other glass he’d been holding, then turned to go. Like before he parted through the press of nobles that surrounded them, and Cullen was left alone again. 

_ Surely you must be thinking of marrying soon to be so open! _

_ How cavalier! You must tell us about him! _

_ Such a rogue to get our hopes up like that, Commander! _

_ Who is he? How long have you been together? Tell us everything! _

_ Commander! Commander Cullen! _

The noise descended like birds at the dock around a pile of fish offal. He’d seen it enough in Kirkwall to know what that was like, and Cullen’s head was still spinning to the point that he could hardly keep up. So many questions, but they were at least different ones. And that hand wasn’t on his arse anymore. He turned, wanted to look that man in the eye who’d been so bold, but...he was gone. Maybe he’d been scared off? Cullen could only hope so.

\----

A good deed for the night had been done. Granted, if the Inquisitor would hurry up and get this situation handled there’d be more good deeds, but for now at least one kindness had happened. Poor Cullen, surrounded by tittering nobles that all wanted to drag him off to the little nooks and crannies that made up the Winter Palace. Samson had seen how they looked at him, even with the masks: hungry. They  _ wanted _ him. One would have thought the uppity Orlesians wouldn’t want anything to do with an uncouth Fereldan, but Cullen was something else entirely. He was handsome, had a presence about him that was inviting when he allowed it to be, and they’d circled like wolves. No wonder he’d looked like a deer about to be killed for their dinner.

That look he’d given had been desperate. Cullen, practical Cullen who was so very private, wouldn’t have begged him with those big brown eyes if he hadn’t been desperate. Samson knew he hated crowds, hated closed spaces, and hated people breathing down his neck. He’d been that way for as long as he’d known Cullen. So he’d had to be creative. Just pulling him away wouldn’t help, but a kiss might at least keep the beasts back a bit. That, and Samson wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to make Cullen blush from his temples to his toes. So maybe it wasn’t the  _ nicest _ thing he could have done, but it served its purpose and he got something out of it too. 

They’d been told by Leliana and Josephine to keep things quiet there, but why would he listen to them? What did he care what some stuck up Duke de Whatever or Chevalier thought of them together? He didn’t. They did, but that was their problem. It was also why he hadn’t been introduced when they’d all come up to Celene. Raleigh Samson, former Templar and disgraced man of Kirkwall working for the Inquisition? He’d been a nobody, had turned tail and run when Corypheus came to him with promises of power should he side with him, and now he was just...there. He helped Cullen train recruits when he could, but he wasn’t anyone or anything special. Not to them. He didn’t matter. At least, he didn’t matter to anyone  _ but _ Cullen, and for now that was all Samson cared about. 

So he went out for some air. The gardens were still full of people and gossip, but it was better than the stuffy interior of the castle. Samson could breathe out there. He could think. He could pass the time until they needed to take care of matters under the Inquisitor’s orders. That was what he needed. Now that Cullen had been saved, mostly, he could go about his night. He’d been ordered to keep out for anything shady, since he’d been a rather shady sort in a previous life, and knew what to look for.

Except, apparently, he wasn’t the one looking.

“Excuse me, Monsieur…” a voice prompted him, and Samson turned to see a masked Orlesian standing with folded arms behind him. The man was fidgeting. Shady. Definitely shady. Behind the mask he could see bright blue eyes that looked almost fevered. He’d been back there with Cullen, stood at Cullen’s left when Samson had shown up with the drinks, and now he was there. Waiting.

One of Samson’s eyebrows cocked, and he leaned back so his weight rested on one foot, “Something you need?” he asked.

“Actually, yes,” the man answered, “I couldn’t help but notice earlier...you’re Commander Cullen’s lover, are you not? He’s quite remarkable.”

“He is.”

The man seemed to fidget a little more at that answer. He shifted his weight, lifted a hand to tug a bit at the silver mask that obstructed his face, and he looked down at the ground for a moment while he seemed to gather his thoughts. Samson could only wonder what in the Void this stuttering naive wanted. Or where this was going.

“I must tell you that I find him...so alluring. He’s very handsome. And if he’s chosen you then you must be quite remarkable too, no?”

Samson snorted, “But not handsome, eh?” he asked, “thanks for that.”

“I want him. Cullen. I would have him if I could-”

Something white and sharp and hot immediately bolted through Samson’s blood, and before he could stop himself he’d practically thrown the man against a wall. Someone gasped, but Samson didn’t see who. All he saw was the man struggling against how Samson had his arm shoved up against his throat and cutting off his air. “You want to run that by me again?” he asked, “and maybe  _ not _ sound like some lech I ought to gut like a fish right here?”

“I-I meant no disrespect!” the man choked, “in fact, it’s a compliment!”

“Try again,” Samson hissed as he pushed his arm harder against the man’s windpipe.

“Please...Monsieur…” he gasped, “let me explain! Please!”

“I don’t think I want to hear your explanation,  _ Monsieur _ ,” he parroted back in a terrible accent. 

Both of the man’s hands tugged at Samson’s arm as he struggled in his grasp. Legs kicked to try to get him off, but for Samson was immovable. He could deal with threats to himself. He could deal with people gossiping about the Inquisitor. He could even deal with some lout coming to leer at the man he cared for, but there was no way in the Maker’s light that he was going to let some horny Orlesian fuckwit try to coerce him into giving Cullen up.

“I would watch you!” the man hissed, “please. That’s all I want. I wouldn’t even be close enough to touch. I just...I just would like to know what it would be like. That’s all.”

“You want to watch us  _ what _ , exactly?” Samson asked, “fuck?”

“I would watch you make love to him,” he gasped, and landed a kick hard enough at Samson’s leg to make him loosen his hold just a bit so the man could breathe, “that kiss before was something I’ve never seen. Please. You’d hardly know I was there. I just...I just want to watch you!”

That made him go still for a long moment. This man, this...whoever he was, he wanted to  _ watch _ Samson and Cullen have sex. Was begging for it, actually. He wanted it so badly he was apparently letting Samson nearly break his neck for it. Orlesians were a strange lot, that was for certain, and this one ruffled Samson’s feathers more than most.

He tipped his head to the side and studied those bright blue eyes that were wide behind the mask, “And if I agreed to this, you think he would?” Samson asked, “And if  _ he _ agreed, where would this beautiful moment even happen?”

“There are plenty of private places around here, Monsieur. Rooms with comfortable beds. Celene’s apartments are being renovated, but there are plenty of empty places in the Servants’ Quarters. Think about it…”

“So you get to watch us and we get  _ what _ out of this?”

“To make love with Cullen...and perhaps my unending gratitude?”

Samson rolled his eyes for that, “your negotiating skills need work, mate.”

“And a chance to be away from all of the politics. And...perhaps, if I could be so bold, a chance to thumb your nose at Celene for pulling you away from more important matters?”

_ Hmm. _


	2. Fulfillment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen and Samson sneak away, but not everything is as it seems.

Inside, it was still just as crowded as before. The scent of perfume and fire spiraled upwards, filled the room with almost a cloud of something that was heady and distracting. The maker only knew that samson was distracted as it was, though he walked with purpose through the throngs of people that gathered in little groups all along the walkways and the stairs. For the moment, Samson didn’t see any of them. If someone spoke to him, tried to stop him, he only moved without paying attention. They didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but the one person he was looking for at the moment.

He saw Cullen before Cullen saw him. The man was still surrounded by that group of people who hadn’t left him alone, and while he didn’t look quite as desperate there was still that look like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Samson could help with that. He pushed his way past, then came up next to Cullen so he could murmur in his ear.

“Come with me.”

Samson could see Cullen stiffen just a bit, though he knew why. Cullen would think he had news of the Inquisitor or that he’d seen something. Of course he  _ had _ news, but it wasn’t the news that Cullen was probably thinking. No, no, this was something else entirely.

It took a moment for them to break away, but Cullen followed him closely. Samson could feel the warmth coming off him, and that only made what already had his blood burning hot that much more pronounced. He spared a glance backward, over his shoulder, and smirked a bit. This reminded him so much of when they’d sneak away back in Kirkwall. It wasn’t often, but every time got both his and Cullen’s blood pumping for the sheer fact that they were doing something they knew they shouldn’t. Cullen, for all of his morals, did like a bit of danger and rule breaking from time to time. Samson always assumed it was because he was such the good Chantry boy the rest of the time, and that need for chaos tended to come out when they were together.

“What did you need?” Cullen asked as they walked. His voice was low and hushed, and Samson knew he was trying to be discreet. If anyone heard what was actually going on with the Inquisition being there it might have been an unholy issue, Samson knew that, but that little whisper sent a little bolt of heat straight down to his cock.

He didn’t answer, just shook his head and put a finger to his lips, then reached back to take Cullen’s hand. Samson led him away, led him down a flight of stairs and out of the main hall so that they might at least have some semblance of privacy for the moment. Cullen’s hand was warm in his own, and he could feel the man shaking just a little. So many people around and in such a high stakes situation always got Cullen’s anxiety up, and regardless of where the night led for the two of them he at least wanted to give Cullen some room to breathe for a moment. In his heart of hearts, under the anger and the hopelessness that came up a lot of the time, Samson was thoughtful. It was in little moments like this that it showed, and while Cullen never commented on it he could read it in the man’s face that he was thankful.

They’d made it to the foyer, and Samson all but dragged Cullen up a mostly empty set of stairs that led to the two other wings: the Royal Apartments, and the Servants’ quarters. One was being renovated, but the other still had the use of rooms if that Orlesian fuck was to be believed. They’d come to an agreement after Samson had let him breathe long enough to speak, and should they go he knew exactly where they were going. Now Samson just needed to get them there.

“Raleigh?” Cullen prompted, and Samson all but swung him around so the man’s back was pressed up against a wall. Amber eyes went wide and he blinked a few times in what Samson assumed was an effort to catch up to what was happening. “What are you-”

He kissed him. He kissed Cullen deeply and butted him more up against the wall. A muffled groan eked out from between their lips from Cullen, and one hand went to press against Samson’s chest to try to push him off. Samson stayed grounded, though, and didn’t budge for the press of that hand, and after a long moment Cullen seemed to relent a bit and that push weakened as he melted into that kiss.

When their lips parted they were both a bit breathless, but Cullen was the first to speak: “Have you lost your mind? We can’t do this here!”

“Not the first time we snuck off for a bit of fun, Rutherford, eh?”

Cullen rolled his eyes, “this is hardly missing a Chantry service. What if the Inquisitor-”

“The Inquisitor is finding idle gossip for the Nightingale and snooping about in the back gardens,” Samson pointed out, “it’ll be near morning before he finds anything. You know how  _ thorough _ the bastard is.”

“But-”

Samson leaned in and kissed him again. It was heated and deep, and he pushed his tongue past Cullen’s lips to taste that wine the man had been sipping on. That was more heady than the smell that filled the main hall, and Samson groaned just a bit into it as he felt Cullen’s arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer. The man was suggestible, had always been, and with that bit of a rebellious streak here and there this was bound to get him going.

Cullen was the one to break this kiss this time, and he leaned his head back on the wall to give Samson the space to nibble at his ear and down along his jaw. “We can’t...here...people will see,” he sighed, “they’re already talking about that kiss from before.”

“I know where we can go.”

Those amber eyes were dark and Samson could feel Cullen’s heart thudding against his chest, though perhaps that was his own heart beating like that. It  _ was _ thrilling. It wasn’t a terribly public space, but public enough that anyone that came close would see them. Samson grinned a wicked kind of grin and he bucked his hips against Cullen’s pinned ones. Neither of them were quite hard yet, though those kisses had been enough to get them going, but Cullen still groaned softly and closed his eyes.

It took a moment before Samson led them away and to one of the doors. Supposedly it had been locked earlier, but it was open now and Samson quickly got them inside. He’d been given directions to a room that would be unlocked, and though he’d never been through there he moved like he knew exactly where he was going. He was good with directions like that, and he squeezed Cullen’s still slightly shaking hand as he led him through room after room until they came to another door.

“Do I want to know how you knew about this?” Cullen asked. That tone was trying very hard to be deadpan, but Samson could hear the excitement that was hiding just under the surface.

He grinned as he pushed open the door and gestured inside, “Nightingale isn’t the only one who hears whispers around here, you know,” Samson teased, “now get in the Maker damned room.”

Cullen rolled his eyes again, but stepped past the threshold of the door. Inside a fire was burning in the fireplace and candles had already been lit. Someone had already been there, that was for certain, unless it was just kept like that all the time. Still, it warm and empty and more inviting than the rest of the palace had been. That was a nice change of pace. It was quiet save for the crackling of the fire, and Samson watched as Cullen inhaled deeply and his shoulders dropped just a bit as he breathed out. 

Good. The man needed to relax a bit.

He pulled the door shut behind them and moved up against Cullen’s back. Both hands smoothed along the plush velvet of the jacket that was practically painted onto Cullen’s chest. Samson could feel Cullen leaning back against him, against his chest, and he smiled as he turned his head and nuzzled his nose against Cullen’s ear. They were away now. Sure, someone could walk into the room at any moment but for now they were at least away from the crowds. That was better than anything. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Cullen said. It sounded louder in the quiet room, but his voice was soft. It had the air like it was something that needed to be said, but they both knew that now that they were there it would take an actual threat or emergency for them to leave.

“We shouldn’t be sticking our arses into Orlesian politics either, but since when has that stopped us?” Samson replied as he nipped at the shell of Cullen’s ear to get him to shiver a bit.

“Quick...we have to be quick.”

Samson hummed for that. It wasn’t agreement, not really, but just a sound. His hands smoothed back over Cullen’s sides and around to the front of him so he could start getting the buttons of that jacket undone. “I’ve got you,” he growled into Cullen’s ear. At this point it was taking every shred of willpower he had not to rip the fucking thing off of him, but it wouldn’t be proper for the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces to go back out into the fray with his uniform torn open for the world to see. 

Buttons open, Samson slid his hands along Cullen’s now bare chest. His fingers tangled in the golden curls that dusted the man’s pecs and down to his stomach while his palms skimmed across soft skin. Cullen sighed for the touch and leaned his head back against Samson’s shoulder. They were pressed together, Cullen’s arse rubbing against Samson’s cock that was hardening under the thick fabric of his pants, and one of Cullen’s arms lifted to reach behind them both and catch at the back of Samson’s neck.

“Raleigh... _ Maker _ ,” Cullen sighed.

Dark eyes looked past the golden curls that framed his vision. Samson had seen something: the glint of metal in the candlelight. There at the back of the room where a doorway led to another room off of this one he saw that mask that he’d been rather up close and personal with not an hour ago. He was there. He was there and he was watching Samson touch Cullen, and Cullen was so lost in it that he hadn’t even noticed. He grinned, turned and buried his face in the space where the loose collar of the jacket met Cullen’s neck, and he bit. Cullen gasped, pulled at Samson’s neck to keep him closer, and there was no denying the shake in his knees and legs now.

Those hands at Cullen’s chest moved lower to get the belt and ties of the man’s pants undone. That trail of golden hair got thicker at Cullen’s waist and grew into a patch of curls just above his cock. Samson pushed Cullen’s pants down over his hips along with his smalls, then tangled in fingers in those curls to make Cullen moan. He loved being teased like that. The man had no idea he was being putting on a show and just how beautifully he reacted as Samson’s long fingers teased the sensitive skin there.

A bitten off groan fell from Cullen’s lips at the touch and he bucked his hips to chase Samson’s fingers. He wanted more, Samson could tell, he wanted his hand on his cock already. Not yet, though. This wasn’t going to be rushed. Not now. Not when the heavy weight of blue eyes behind a mask spurred him on to make this last as long as possible. 

He pulled his hands back up. Fingers bit into pale skin, traced scars that were as familiar as his own across Cullen’s hips and ribs, and Samson growled again as his fingers moved back up to Cullen’s chest. He circled the man’s nipples, ghosted fingertips over them to make Cullen gasp again and jut his chest forward. Perhaps more than anything this was Cullen’s guilty pleasure. He’d balked at it many years ago, back when they’d shared a bed in Kirkwall, and had tried to deny the fact that such gentle(or not so gentle) attention there made him red faced and panting. Samson teased him, touched him lightly as Cullen squirmed in his hold, then brought his fingers together to pinch the now hard nubs between them.

“ _ F-fuck, _ Raleigh,” Cullen moaned as his nipples were pinched and rolled between fingers and thumbs. Samson tugged, made Cullen gasp again, and the hand on the back of his neck moved into his hair to pull. Grabby was Cullen Rutherford when he was aroused, and the way those fingers gripped proved that this was certainly getting to him.

Another pinch, another tug, and Cullen rocked his hips backward. He was grinding his arse into Samson’s hips. That much was for certain. Maker, how Samson would have loved to just pull his own pants down and take him just like that, but no...no. He wasn’t going to rush this, even if his body’s demands were starting to wear down his resolve. Cullen’s eagerness was a test at the best of times, and now was no different. The way Cullen moved against him, the way he panted in Samson’s ear and squirmed, made him just as crazy as Samson was making him.

Cullen turned, tripped a bit at how his pants were tangled at his knees, and pulled Samson into a kiss. This was desperation. This was Cullen in need. He kissed Cullen back, parted his lips so their tongues could wind around each other’s and taste that wine and something so familiar from years together. Cullen pulled him close, cupped his face with one hand as the other went to pull the tie from his hair so he could tunnel his fingers through it, and all but sucked on Samson’s tongue. Any doubt was long gone now, and Samson let himself be swept away in it. How could he not? Cullen sucking on his tongue and groaning into his mouth was one of the hottest things Samson could think of, and he had them both right now.

He nipped at Cullen’s lower lip and nodded toward the soft looking four poster bed, “Come on,” Samson purred, and nudged Cullen backward. It was perhaps a bit of a comical moment as Cullen struggled with his pants and boots still on, but it didn’t take long for those to be pulled off and left in a heap on the floor as they made their way to the bed. Samson shoved him down, pushed with two hands on Cullen’s chest until his arse met the mattress, and Samson crawled on top of him to claim the man’s lips again. Cullen hummed, dug his fingers in to Samson’s still clothed shoulders, and arched his back so they were pressed together.

“Why are you still dressed?” Cullen asked against his lips, and started moving trembling hands to pull at those buttons until the jacket fell open. Those hands went to Samson’s pants then, and Samson leaned down to sink his teeth into Cullen’s neck. It proved a good enough distraction, too, as he whined and dug his fingers into Samson’s hips. That soft skin tasted a bit like salt, like sweat from wearing such heavy clothes, and Samson growled for it. Had they the time, a real long night for this, he would have pinned Cullen to the bed and tasted every inch of him. 

Cullen arched his back and tipped his head to the side for more of that. He always had been one to like being nibbled on, especially at his neck. Samson had never had a problem with obliging him either. He kissed his way along Cullen’s throat, bit at his pulse, then moved up to his ear so he could suck Cullen’s earlobe into his mouth. That was the right thing to do, too, since Cullen lifted a leg to hitch it around Samson’s waist to grind their hips together.

A soft sound came from behind them, from the door Samson had seen the Orlesian in not long ago, and that was enough to make Cullen start and try to sit up. “What?” he asked, then twisted himself around with wide eyes before he started to try to push Samson off him, “there’s….Maker there’s  _ someone _ …”

“I know,” Samson purred into Cullen’s ear. He was undeterred, and let his tongue dip out to trace the shell of Cullen’s ear until he shivered again and whined, “it’s fine.”

“It’s  _ not! _ ” Cullen tried to move away, but that tongue at his ear obviously distracted him, “he...it’s him from before-”

“I  _ know _ ,” Samson repeated into Cullen’s ear and moved so he could look down into those amber eyes that were dark from lust but wide now in surprise, “it’s fine. Trust me.”

“Raleigh…”

He leaned down and caught Cullen’s lips again, “Orlesians,” he murmured by way of explanation when he broke the kiss, “don’t worry about him.”

“But-” Cullen tried to argue, but Samson kissed him again. This time he reached up to catch Cullen’s chin, and he turned Cullen’s head to the side so that he could start kissing down his neck and to his collarbone. Another sound, a noise of complaint, bubbled up from Cullen’s chest, but Samson bit the thin skin there just hard enough for him to gasp and the sound to die in his throat.

“I’ve got you,” Samson promised, then licked along Cullen’s collarbone to the divot between them so he could suck a pink mark into it, “don’t. Worry. About it.”

It took a moment, and Samson could feel the indecision in Cullen as he stayed taut like a bowstring and didn’t move. He’d been so pliant, so ready, and now it was going to take something to get him back to that. While he still had the Orlesian on his mind he wouldn’t be fully present, and Samson wanted him to be. So he kissed his way lower through the dusting of golden curls at Cullen’s chest in attempt to bring him back under. Slowly, so slowly, he could feel Cullen relax. 

When Cullen’s back hit the mattress again, Samson nuzzled his face into Cullen’s ribs. There were scars there, scars from days past that Samson had traced with his fingers during long nights of insomnia, and he pressed his lips over them here and there as he breathed in the scent of Cullen’s skin. It was a mix of sweat and excitement now, and it only made the heat in Samson’s belly grow. He kissed his way back up, leaned over Cullen so he was stretched out between the man’s legs, and bent so that he could flick the tip of his tongue over a nipple.

“Maker,” Cullen sighed as he tangled both hands back into Samson’s hair.

One hand skimmed up Cullen’s side to pinch the other nipple not in Samson’s mouth, and Cullen squirmed for it. The hands in his hair tugged and scratched, but Samson didn’t stop. If anything, the light pain here and there only spurred him on. He licked, sucked, and nipped gently at the bud between his lips, and rolled the other between his fingers. Under him, Cullen arched his back and groaned, bucked his hips upward, and turned to bury his cheek in against the blankets and mattress.

Beside them, a sound like feet moving across the floor. The noble, the man with the mask, moved to take a seat in front of the fireplace in a plush chair that faced the bed. One gloved hand rested over the front of his pants, stroked the rather visible erection that strained under them, and he sighed as he got comfortable. Those blue eyes behind the mask never left them, and though Samson could hardly see his lips under the mask he knew the man was smiling. Good. 

He let his other hand drift down. Warm skin under his palm was maddening, and Samson lifted his hips to get his trousers undone and pushed down and off his hips along with his boots. It wasn’t proper Templar behavior, leaving their clothes in heaps on the floor, but they weren’t Templars anymore. They could do as they pleased, and for now Samson wanted his pants off so that he could take both their cocks in hand and stroke them. Cullen arched his back again, pushed his chest more into his other hand and mouth, and the sound that left those scarred lips was high and tight. Needy. Lustful. Cullen was far more vocal in bed than anyone would believe, and it drove Samson a bit mad. It always had.

Those fingers tangled in Samson’s hair were pushing now, pushing him lower where Cullen wanted him, and he chuckled as he lifted his lips and pressed a kiss against Cullen’s sternum. “Something you want, Rutherford?” he asked. Samson was grinning though Cullen wasn’t looking at him. He couldn’t help it. Seeing him without the usual control was one of the best things.

“Stop fucking teasing!”

He could do that. He could stop teasing the man, fuck him, and it would still be great. They didn’t have all the time in the world, Samson knew that, but in good conscience he couldn’t just flip Cullen over and fuck him. They could do that any night that they had little time to choose between pleasure and sleep, after all. No, he wanted to take his time. Not for the man watching them, though that did add a certain thrill, but for them. They deserved it. If things kicked off with Celene and Gaspard like he figured they would it would be a while before they could take their time again. This was about more than putting on a show, it was about more than slipping away and having a bit of fun to snub Celene and the Orlesian political nonsense, it was about them. It was about something fun and ill advised like they’d done when they were younger.

So Samson kissed his way lower. He unwrapped his hand from around them both as he kissed and nipped at ribs and along the slightly softer midsection than had been there five years ago. That was maddening too. They were older now, not scared kids in Kirkwall just trying to do the right thing. They’d made their choices, were living them now, and while it might have been nice to be those same kids again there was something so much  _ more _ about the fact that they were older. They still knew each other so well, but they were still changing a bit here and there. He rested his cheek against Cullen’s stomach, took in how it trembled a bit, and he turned to rub an actually smooth cheek against it.

Then lower. Cullen’s cock was hard and leaking now, straining upward against his stomach in a puddle of precum that smeared across the curls that traveled from his navel and lower. Samson smirked, bent his head, and sucked the tip of it into his mouth. Cullen’s hands pushed and pulled, fingers tangled more harshly in his hair, and he gasped. Samson sucked gently, let his tongue swirl around it the tip until Cullen’s hips bucked to chase it. He should have lingered, should have stayed there until Cullen came, but Samson wasn’t about to let him off that easily. Not now, anyway. 

He pulled away, ran the flat of his tongue from root to tip of Cullen’s cock, and grinned at how Cullen whined for it. “Sam...Raleigh,  _ please _ ,” he begged as his fingers pulled at Samson’s hair for him to continue.

“Turn over, then,” Samson instructed before he bent to suck a pink mark at Cullen’s thigh. It was harsh, teeth included, and there would be a bruise there later. Oh, how he did love leaving Cullen with a few bruises and scratches for the next morning.

Cullen, the good Chantry boy that he was, obeyed beautifully. He rolled over as Samson moved away from the edge of the bed and watched as Cullen settled himself with his legs hanging over the side. Bent over the bed as he was, Samson’s cock ached. It would have been so easy to just open Cullen up and fuck him like that, and  _ Maker _ was it tempting. Cullen was every one of Samson’s temptations in human form, and the longer he waited the more his willpower wavered.

Instead, he knelt beside the bed between Cullen’s legs. Both hands rested on either cheek of Cullen’s arse, and he kneaded at them gently before he landed a slightly harsh smack. Cullen jumped, cried out, and he could hear Cullen gripping at the sheets a bit. “Sam...” he whined, “ _ more _ . Please, more.”

Of course he liked it when he got his arse smacked. 

Samson obliged, smacked him again, and smiled when he saw that pale skin go a bit pink from the abuse. He’d always said that both sets of Cullen’s cheeks went pink when he blushed, but he wasn’t above helping things along a bit. That, and how Cullen reacted to being spanked was always enough to make Samson’s breath catch. The way he’d wiggle, begging for more without words, was a sight to behold. Now was no different, either.

But he didn’t smack him again. Instead he gripped those pink cheeks, pulled them apart, and leaned in to press the flat of his tongue against Cullen’s entrance. The man jumped, tossed his head from side to side, and moaned. There was no keeping him quiet now. Samson’s tongue licked, swirled around that tight ring of muscle as it clenched and relaxed in anticipation, and honed in just enough to make Cullen arch his back again and start babbling. He heard his name in there, heard him begging for more, and of course the Maker’s name. Always. His and the Maker’s name often came in the same breath, which made the ex-Templar part of him chuckle.

“Yes,” a whisper in the dim light, and Samson cut a glance to the side to the man sitting in the chair. His trousers were undone now, and he sat with legs splayed as he slowly stroked his now freed erection. It spurred Samson on, made him lean in a bit further, as he teased and licked at Cullen. 

Cullen wasn’t able to keep still now. His hips bucked against the bed and back against Samson’s mouth. It made him laugh softly, then he leaned in to press his lips against Cullen’s entrance so he could plunge the tip of his tongue inside. It was gentle, slow, but with enough purpose to show what his intentions were. Cullen cried out, hitched his hips up a bit and backward for more, and Samson could hear his fingers scrabbling at the sheets. For the moment, it was just the two of them in that room. It was just them, the sounds Cullen was making as Samson pushed his tongue inside him, and the heat burning in their blood. 

Finally his tongue had room to push in further, and the choked  _ unnnghhhh _ that fell from Cullen’s lips went to Samson’s cock. One hand fell from Cullen’s arse gently stroke himself, which only made him push in further and lick at Cullen until his jaw ached and Cullen was nearly beside himself. The sounds Samson’s mouth made were wet, obscene, but so sweet when they mixed with Cullen’s groans and gasps and sighs.

Another wiggle of Cullen’s arse, “F-fuck me,” Cullen begged. His voice was reedy and airy. Dry like cotton. Perhaps he’d practically had the blankets in his mouth to try to quiet those sounds.

“Like this?” Samson asked before he covered Cullen’s entrance with his lips and thrust his tongue in and out as far as he could. Cullen all but howled, one leg lifted to almost try to crawl away, and he threw one hand behind him to tangle back in Samson’s hair to press him closer.

“Don’t stop,” Cullen panted, “Maker, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

A groan from beside them, and Samson grinned as well as he could for how his mouth was working. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This was what he’d wanted. He’d wanted Cullen walking that line of too much pleasure, Samson lost in it, and that man watching them feeling just as jealous as anything that he could only watch. He fucked Cullen with his tongue, fucked him for as long as his tongue could take it, and when he finally pulled away his lips and chin were shining with spit, and Cullen’s rear end shone in the firelight. It was obscenely beautiful.

Another smack to Cullen’s arse, which gave him a start, and Samson got back to his feet as he leaned over on one arm. His other hand went back to Cullen’s entrance, and he started to push a finger in where he’d already opened him up a bit. His own cock was wet, dripping between his legs as Cullen’s body opened up for his fingers, and the man hiccuped around a moan that rose to the rafters. 

“Yesssss,” Cullen hissed.

The man was beautiful like this. There wasn’t much better than watching Cullen lose his wits when he was in the throes of pleasure. He’d always been that way. Cullen threw himself fully into whatever it was he did, even sex, and Samson loved it. He loved the way his inhibitions melted when his heart was pounding and his blood was hot. He loved that a simple suggestion of something naughty started with a blush, but ended in Cullen crying out his name for the world to hear. He loved...everything about this. He loved Cullen with as much of a heart as he had left, and he loved to take him apart like this.

Though, if he were being honest with himself, having someone watch him do it did a bit more for him than he thought it would. He wasn’t sure if it did the same for Cullen, but it was something delightfully different. Dangerous. A complete turnaround from their years of hiding things.

He cast a glance to the side, to the little table beside the bed, and noted with a bit of a smirk that there was a small vial of oil already laid out. Clearly this really had been thought out. Samson, however, didn’t mind that. It only made it easier on him like this. But then he turned his attention back to Cullen, pushed two fingers into him so he could open him up a bit more, and the man couldn’t keep still. He hadn’t been able to for a while, but now it was well and truly obvious.

“You good?” Samson asked, and he was surprised at how breathy his voice sounded. Then again, his cock was aching and dripping between his legs, nearly purple with the want to just push inside of Cullen, and feeling how he clenched around his fingers was driving him nearly mad.

Cullen whined, bucked his hips backward on those questing fingers, then cried out as Samson wiggled them a bit to rub up against that patch of nerves. From where he could see, Cullen’s face and neck were a beautiful pink, pink that undoubtedly spread down his chest and over his shoulders, and his eyes were squeezed shut as he rocked back and forth for more. “Y-yeah, I’m... _ oh shit _ , yeah, I’m good,” he breathed after a moment.    

Good. Very good. Samson crawled back on the bed and grabbed Cullen by the hips to flip him onto his back. As he thought, Cullen’s face was flushed all the way down to his chest, and his cock was harder than Samson had ever seen it. It was wet, dripping and spurting precum at the tip, and Samson licked his lips. Maker, he wanted it. He wanted it so much. So he reached for the vial of oil, then bent his head to suck Cullen’s cock into his mouth like he’d done before.

Cullen howled, curled up around Samson’s head as he cried out, and flopped back down. Samson didn’t do anything but lick at the tip, swirled his tongue in the slit until more spurted out for him to taste, and moved back so he could wipe at his mouth. It had Cullen whining again, begging in a dry, babbling voice, and he looked up at Samson with bright amber eyes. He didn’t beg, not out loud, but those eyes said everything.

One hand opened the vial, and Samson poured a bit into his palm so he could stroke his cock with it. Just that bit of relief had his hips bucking, and he sighed as he capped the vial and tossed it on the bed. Cullen lying there like he was...it was a feast for the senses: firelight across pale skin, the sound of his breathing, the scent of sweat and sex on him, and the taste of him on Samson’s tongue. His own heart was pounding in his chest, and he knew he was breathing hard just from the effort it took not to just lay into him. Maker, he wanted him so badly. So, so badly.

He sat up on his knees, pulled Cullen into his lap with the man’s legs splayed on either side of his hips, and Samson bent over. They met halfway in a kiss that was all needy desperation and tongues clashing. Teeth clacked together, and they both groaned for the feel and the taste of it. One of Samson’s hands went to Cullen’s hair, ran his fingers through it, and he nipped at Cullen’s lip. His mouth tasted so good. Always had. Always would. “You want me, eh?” Samson asked before he kissed Cullen again and thrust his tongue into the other man’s mouth.

The only response he got was a moan, and Cullen fell back to the bed. Those beautiful eyes were heavy lidded, dark with lust, and he merely nodded. Yes, he was ready. Ready and willing, and all but insane for it. How could Samson deny him that now? When had he ever been able to? So he moved again, pulled Cullen close so his arse was hitched upward on his thighs, and he guided himself into him. Slowly, enough not to hurt, but with enough intention that Cullen let out a long and low moan that broke on the end as he arched his back and reached out to grab at Samson’s arms.

He sucked in breath after breath as Samson pushed his way in, and when he was fully seated with his balls snug against Cullen’ arse...Cullen sighed. A look crossed his face, one that was pure bliss and deep-seeded frustration as he got used to the stretch, and Samson smiled a much smaller and more private smile when he felt the pad of Cullen’s thumb brush against the inside of his arm where the skin was thin. Cullen would be able to feel his pulse like that, feel how it raced for the man under him, and that bit of private closeness made Samson’s heart flutter just a bit.

Slowly he started to move, just slowly enough for Cullen to get used to it. Those moans filled the room, joined by Samson’s grunts, and as he felt the other man relax around him he picked up the pace. That something slow and gentle picked up to some hard and fast until those moans were punctuated by the loud sound of Samson’s hips slapping against Cullen’s arse. Cullen cried out, writhed and squirmed and moaned, and Samson had to lean over him to keep his balance. There was nothing but them in that moment. It was just them and that exquisite tightness around Samson’s cock that felt like a vice.

Lost as they were, lost as Samson was in that heat and tightness, the room filled with nothing but guttural sounds and skin on skin. Cullen’s voice rose and fell, he begged both Samson and the Maker for more and for it to never end, and Samson was right there to agree with him. If he could stop time, make it to this wouldn’t end, he would have. They could just live in his moment forever, and he would be happy. He could live with the feeling of pleasure coursing through him for the rest of his life and die a happy man. It seemed Cullen could too if the way he writhed and moaned was any indication.

He grunted through his nose as he bent over a bit more, thrust into Cullen harder, and Samson could feel his orgasm building.It was like a heat building low in him, down in his balls, and Samson bit at his lip as he felt it grow and radiate outward. The thrusting of his hips became less measured, more powerful and erratic, and he gripped tighter at Cullen’s thighs as the man’s ankles practically slapped together behind his neck.

One of Cullen’s hands went to his cock, went to try to relieve the pressure building there. It was red, leaking, harder than Samson could remembered seeing it, but he pushed that hand away so Cullen whined. No, he wouldn’t get his release yet. Not yet. Not until Samson had come down and he could focus on it. Right now it was getting difficult to see through the haze of his own impending orgasm, and as it crested over him...Maker, help him.

Samson cried out, buried himself as deeply in Cullen as he could, and ground himself in as close as he could as he came inside the other man. His mind was only on that moment, as he felt himself twitch and fill Cullen, so much so that the sound of another sigh shook the fog from his head. He turned, watched the noble’s hand slow from where eh’d been stroking his cock as he watched them, and smirked as that hand went to wipe along the edge of the chair. They were all three breathing hard, and he knew the man had come too. 

“Raleigh,” Cullen whined, “please... _ please _ , Maker, I’ll go mad.”

His attention snapped back down to Cullen, red faced and sweaty, and Samson reached a hand down to pinch one of his nipples like he’d done before. Cullen squirmed, tried to push that hand off, and locked his legs so that he might thrust his hips back against Samson’s softening cock that was still inside him. He was so beautiful when he was lost in that place, that desperate middle ground between an orgasm and such wondrous denial, but it would be so wrong to keep him there like that.

“Get up,” Samson instructed. Cullen’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. His legs were probably a bit like jelly, but Samson didn’t care. “Up, Rutherford,” he said again as he pulled himself free of Cullen and got a gasp in response, “up on your knees. Do it.”

Behind them, the sound of clothes being pulled back up and secured filled the gaps. It took Cullen a moment before he could move, but he did. The man took orders and suffered more beautifully than anyone Samson had ever seen. On shaky legs he knelt, back straight and pressed against Samson’s chest. He was a sight to behold, really, and Samson pressed a kiss to the join of his shoulders and neck.

“You put on such a good show, eh?” Samson purred into Cullen’s ear. His hands skimmed down Cullen’s sides, went to grab at his arse for a moment before to probing fingers moved to brush at his entrance. There was the warm remnants of Samson’s orgasm already starting to drip out of him now, and Cullen shuddered as deft, skinny fingers teased and pushed back inside him.

One of Cullen’s arms lifted to wrap around the back of his neck, and one hand went back into Samson’s hair, “S-stop,” he panted, “no...show.”

“Beautiful.” The word was an irreverent breath. Samson turned, saw the noble standing beside the bed, and he smiled as he wound his arms around Cullen’s middle. Behind the mask, those bright blue eyes watched them with almost the same hunger as they had moments before. He was taking it in, enjoying how the firelight licked at Cullen’s pale skin, and clenched one hand in a fist before it lifted.

That hand went to rest on Cullen’s hip just below where Samson’s arms hung. There was a beat where no one moved and the only sound was the crackling fire and Cullen’s heaving breaths. “You are both so beautiful,” the noble repeated, then moved to stand before them. That hand trailed down, over Cullen’s stomach, and after a slow moment of just touching him a finger moved to dip into the shining and wet pool of precum that had smeared across Cullen’s middle. He pulled it back, let his gaze lock with Cullen’s, and lifted it to his mouth to suck at the end of one fingertip.

Samson could feel Cullen shiver, and he turned to bury his face in against Samson’s neck with his eyes closed. His body was shaking. Wanting. At this point he could come probably just from a touch, and Maker help him...Samson wanted to see it happen. 

The noble leaned in, pressed a courteous kiss against Samson’s cheek, then turned to Cullen. Those amber eyes were still closed, and Cullen’s cheeks were bright pink in embarrassment. Or pleasure. Perhaps both. Samson smirked, crooked his fingers inside him, and thrust them in a bit more until Cullen groaned and bucked his hips a little. His breathing had picked back up, and one eye opened to meet those that were staring down at them both. Again, no one spoke. No one moved.

Samson could feel Cullen gulp as the noble leaned down, bent himself over, and he watched as the man licked the flat of his tongue against the sensitive head of Cullen’s cock. It made him squirm, gasp, and Samson grinned and pressed his fingers up against Cullen’s prostate so he thrust his cock into the noble’s mouth. Cullen was panting, and Samson knew he was trying not to cry out. The little sounds that escaped his throat were telltale of that. 

But then the man was gone. He’d touched a hand to Cullen’s shoulder, then walked out without a word. It left Cullen there, stranded in between embarrassment and pleasure, and Samson waited until he heard the door shut before he wrapped a hand around Cullen’s cock and started to pump it into his fist. Cullen lost it then, between the fingers inside him and the hand stroking him, and he let out a pinched, shrill cry as he finally spilled himself onto the fine linens under them.

He slumped backward, melted against Samson’s chest, and he let them fall to the side until the lay across the bed together. Cullen was still twitching, still panting, and he buried his face in against the pillows. His body was hot, burning, and Samson held him closer. So close. He didn’t want to know where Cullen ended and he began. Not now, and not ever. 

Eventually they had to return to the ball. They had to meet the Inquisitor and send the troops to deal with Florienne and unmask he treachery against Celene. They had to go do their job. They had to look the others in the face and give orders, which they did with all the seriousness it required, but as they did so Samson knew that Cullen barked his orders with Samson’s spend dripping from his arse. They had no time to act, not now, but the thought made Samson’s blood run hot. That they’d done that, that they’d done such things that would be so obscene to anyone’s ears and then gone to protect Thedas afterward…

With Gaspard on the throne come the morning, with his blessing and free reign over a chateau in his holdings, they’d left the Winter Palace to rest for a day before going back to Skyhold. They’d gone to bed, slept for a few hours, then Samson had fucked Cullen senseless again. Again and again. He burned pink, flushed with embarrassment as Samson murmured in his ear that he’d liked the eyes on them. That maybe they ought to do it again. Cullen had balked, had blushed, but in the darkness of their shared bed…

“So long as you  _ tell _ me first, next time.”

\----

It was a fortnight later, amid the letters from Orlais after the Inquisition’s victory at Halamshiral, that a letter arrived. Cullen had gotten countless offers of courtship, of interest in his hand, but this one was different. It was addressed to he and Samson both. Someone, with only a seal on the envelope as a clue as to who it was, was interested.

Interested in  _ them. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope. Still no excuses.
> 
> come find me on tumblr! @sallyamongpoison

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have an excuse for this. But it did take me two weeks to write, so that's something. 
> 
> Questions? Comments? Want to chat? You can find me on tumblr @sallyamongpoison


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